College football thrives on weirdness. You have fans wearing cheese on their heads and mascots that are literally live buffaloes. But even in that landscape, the Slab of Bacon trophy stands out as a bizarre, somewhat greasy relic of midwestern grit. Most people today look at the Paul Bunyan Axe and think that’s all there is to the Wisconsin-Minnesota rivalry. It isn't.
Long before the axe, there was the bacon.
It was 1930. The Big Ten wasn't the coastal-to-coastal juggernaut it is now. Back then, it was just the "Big Ten," a collection of heavyweights in the heart of the country. A group of Madison-based fans decided the winner of the Badgers vs. Gophers game needed something better than just bragging rights. They created a piece of black walnut with a carved football in the middle. On either side, they etched a "W" and an "M."
Why call it a slab of bacon? Honestly, the name came from the phrase "bringing home the bacon." It was a literal interpretation of a common idiom. If you won the game, you got the slab. Simple as that.
The Disappearance That Lasted Decades
Winning a trophy is one thing. Keeping track of it is apparently another. For about 400 years—okay, more like 50—nobody knew where the Slab of Bacon trophy actually was. It vanished.
After the 1943 game, the trophy just... stopped appearing. Imagine a major rivalry prize just evaporating. It’s wild. People assumed it was lost during a post-game celebration or maybe tossed into a basement during the chaos of World War II. For years, the story was that it was "lost in a fire" or stolen by a rival fan. This is the kind of lore that makes college football better than the pros. The mystery became part of the charm.
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Then came 1994.
While cleaning out a storage closet at the University of Wisconsin’s Camp Randall Stadium, an intern or staffer—accounts vary on who exactly held the broom that day—found a weird piece of wood. It was tucked behind some old boxes, covered in dust, and completely forgotten. It was the Slab of Bacon. It hadn't been stolen. It hadn't burned. It was just sitting in a closet in Madison for half a century.
The irony? Minnesota had won the 1943 game. Technically, the Gophers were the rightful owners the entire time the trophy was "missing" in Wisconsin's storage room. If you're a Minnesota fan, that's just salt in the wound.
Why the Axe Replaced the Slab
You might wonder why we don't use it now. Why the Paul Bunyan Axe? Well, because the bacon was missing, the teams needed something else to play for. In 1948, the National "W" Club at Wisconsin created the Axe. It was big, it was visually striking, and it fit the "north woods" aesthetic of the rivalry perfectly.
The Axe became the standard. By the time the Slab of Bacon trophy was rediscovered in the mid-90s, the Paul Bunyan Axe was already a legendary tradition. You can't just swap back. Traditions in the Big Ten are basically laws.
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The physical slab itself is a time capsule. When they found it, they realized the scores of the games from the 1930s and early 40s were still there, etched into the back. It’s a piece of history that survived through neglect. Today, it doesn't travel. It stays safely tucked away in the Wisconsin football offices, a weird reminder of a different era.
The Details on the Back
Looking at the back of the trophy tells a specific story of dominance. During the era of the Slab, Minnesota was a powerhouse. We’re talking about the Bernie Bierman years. They were winning national championships.
- In 1934, Minnesota took it.
- In 1935, Minnesota again.
- 1936? You guessed it.
Wisconsin had their moments, of course, but the Gophers really owned the "Bacon" era. This is one reason why some older fans in the Twin Cities still have a soft spot for it. It represents a time when Minnesota was the undisputed king of the North.
The Modern View of Rivalry Trophies
The Slab of Bacon trophy represents something that's fading in modern sports: local, organic weirdness. Today, trophies are often corporate-sponsored. They are shiny. They are designed by marketing agencies to look good on a 4K broadcast.
The Slab was just a hunk of wood made by some guys who liked football.
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It’s small. Compared to the Paul Bunyan Axe, which is several feet long and requires two people to carry it properly, the Slab is modest. But that’s what makes it cool. It feels like something a grandfather would have made in his garage. It has soul.
Misconceptions About the Bacon
A lot of people think the trophy was actually made of meat. No. It’s wood. While it would have been hilarious (and incredibly gross) to pass around a 90-year-old piece of cured pork, the name is purely metaphorical.
Another common myth is that it was replaced because it was offensive. That’s not true either. It was replaced because it was lost. If Wisconsin hadn't misplaced it in 1943, there's a very good chance the Axe would never have been created. We would still be talking about "bringing home the bacon" every November.
What You Should Do Next
If you’re a college football history nerd, you can’t actually go buy a Slab of Bacon. But you can appreciate the history.
- Visit Camp Randall: If you're ever in Madison, the trophy is often on display in the athletic department's trophy cases. It’s worth seeing just to realize how small it is.
- Check the record books: Look at the scores from 1930 to 1943. It gives you a much better perspective on why this rivalry is so heated. It’s not just about recent games; it’s about a century of trading a hunk of wood back and forth.
- Compare the trophies: Look at the Paul Bunyan Axe and the Slab side-by-side in photos. The shift from the Slab to the Axe mirrors the shift in college football from a local pastime to a massive, larger-than-life spectacle.
The Slab of Bacon trophy is more than just a "lost" item. It’s a reminder that sports are better when they’re a little bit strange. It’s a link to a time before NIL deals and massive TV contracts, when a win meant taking a piece of walnut home to show your neighbors.